The Trouble with Sith Lords
by andrastaie
Summary: Darth Nox, on a special mission for the Dark Council, needs an expert strategist. This brings her to the Emperor's Wrath, who allows her to "borrow" Malavai Quinn. Chapter 3 Spoilers for both Sith stories, but especially the Warrior story.
1. Borrowing

Quinn bolted upright in bed, blankets falling about his waist as his chest heaved. Sweat glistened against his body as he tried his best to catch a normal breath. Images flashed and danced behind his vision, tormenting him. Simply being awake did not dissuade the appearance of the nightmare that plagued him. Beyond them, however, at the doorway to his quarters stood the very source of his restless nights. She stood there, clad in dark robes that hung loosely over her slender body.

Often he'd wondered if his nightmares were intentional. If she, herself, was taking some perverse pleasure in torturing him through his dreams. He'd never put it past her - no matter how much the rest of their motley crew claimed it was simply his own damned fault. Even in the past, Quinn had proved he could own up to his own mistakes. Therefore when Vette or Pierce liked to tell him this was his own doing, he'd argue otherwise. Why would he torment himself for so many nights? No. It had to be her.

The fact that she appeared now, standing slouched against the frame of the door watching him, only solidified his thoughts. Torturous images faded as his eyes came into focus on her. In the shadows of the dark room, it was impossible to make out her expression. More than anything else, this terrified him. Breathing returned to normal, his chest rising and falling at a more relaxed tempo in complete contrast to his mood. Years of experience taught him how to hide his emotions, however more recent years reminded him it was typically a futile effort with a Sith.

"My Lord?" The vague question pierced the air; a pregnant silence now settling around them as the question trailed from his lips.

The silence seemed to hang for too long; he squirmed ever so slightly in place with discomfort. The thought did cross his mind that she was not actually here, that he had not woken up and was still lost in a hellish dream world.

"I can taste your fear." When it finally came, the voice was sharp and emotionless. The lithe woman at the door was not the one he thought it was.

"Jaesa?" Surprise was evident in his voice, something he wasn't quick enough to try and hide. If he was perfectly honest, the woman gave him the chills. Evidently he was not so good at hiding this fact as he liked to believe.

An answer for him never came, however. As he watched her, he saw her turn away and disappear down the corridor. Quinn relaxed back with a heavy sigh of relief, leaning against the wall behind his bed. He'd learned some time ago trying to comprehend why she, or any other Sith, did what they did was a futile effort. And never worth the extra thought and effort.

From the hall came the sound of hushed voices. Unable to relax further to even attempt sleep again, he sat up and shifted out of the bed. His feet touched the cold metal deck softly and he shuffled forward as quietly as possible to peek his head out of the room. The first thing he saw was a pair of familiar, blue lekku. Resisting, with practiced ease, the urge to hiss at simply seeing the aggravating twi'lek, Quinn attempted to identify the other woman. His gaze narrowed, it was not Jaesa nor was it their Master.

When eyes darted to him, he jerked back into the room and began to shuffle back to his bed. It wasn't worth it. He shouldn't have even bothered looking to see what was going on. He knew better, or at least he really should have known. An unknown voice called for him, he cringed. These Sith would be the death of him one of these days.

"Captain?" The same voice called again. The unknown woman.

Quinn shifted his direction and grabbed a shirt to throw on, turning back to head to the door again. This was not ideal. Probably Vette's idea. The irritating child.

The blue twi'lek was giggling to herself when he finally made his appearance in the corridor. He'd not shaved in a few days, the shirt was not nearly as well pressed as he should have liked, to say nothing about how disheveled he knew his hair was. Definitely Vette's idea to torture him, as she did every other day.

"Yes?" As he had a further moment to study the other, he presumed her status and offered a slight bow of respect.

"Captain Quinn, I've heard much about you." The stranger quirked a brow; her enjoyment of the situation marked plain as day that she'd been talking to Vette for an extended time. Simply fantastic. "I am Darth Nox, of the Dark Council, and I require a crew with… unique capabilities." Her posture was rigid, hands clasped neatly behind her back. In spite of the clear amusement in her expression, everything else about her spoke to the seriousness of her request.

He cleared his throat, allowing himself an extra second to think. He could not possibly imagine what he had to offer for a member of the Dark Council. Yet he was certain he'd be compelled to handle this regardless of his thoughts on the matter.

"I'm more than happy to help the Dark Council," he lied. He'd had it with Sith lately. The wild emotions, the illogical outbursts and power plays. It sickened him to think back on how many good Imperials had been lost over the years to the selfish, greedy grabs for power among the Sith. Perhaps the Empire could win this war if it's Masters weren't so self-absorbed.

Working to keep his thoughts to himself in a carefully erected wall within his mind, he attempted to stand with as much dignity as he could muster given his outward appearance. "Has this been cleared with the Emperor's Wrath?" The last thing he wanted to do was fall in with yet another Sith Lord that would put him at odds with her.

"She would not be here if it had not been." The Wrath herself appeared, the sweet alto of her voice distorted by the bone-faced mask she wore. He'd always hated that damn mask. Not only could he see no reason she'd ever need to mask her heritage (her bloodline was strong and pure, after all), but the fact that he could rarely lay eyes on her beautiful face and vibrant eyes sometimes left him in quite the distracted bind. And that horrible mask was the thing that haunted his dreams.

"Of course," he responded quietly, frustrated with himself for not considering such a possibility of his own accord. His gaze danced to the other Sith, soulless red eyes twinkling with amusement at his expense. He knew then and there getting up was the worst decision he could have possibly made. He'd have been better off staying in bed, waiting for the nightmare visions to fade, and going back to sleep. As this was shaping up to all be worse than his nightmares could have possibly been.

"Vette will be coming with me." Quinn's gaze shifted to his Sith's masked face, he could not hide the relief that washed across him. He gave an appreciative nod of his head, then looked again to Darth Nox. He opened his mouth to ask when he was to start with her when she beat him to it. "Get yourself cleaned up and I expect to see you in the hanger right away." Without another word, she spun on her heel and disappeared.

"I'll go get my things together," Vette quipped quietly and trotted off like the obedient slave she was. Quinn's gaze followed her down the hall. Any other man might have found the view quite pleasing. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but revulsion at such a lowly creature still being allowed in the company of the Emperor's Wrath.

"Mind your feelings, Captain." The teasing voice of his master slithered around in his mind. If not for the cold reverberation of her mask, he'd have thought she was speaking directly into his mind. "Fel, if I may speak freely…" Slowly he turned to look at her, her personal nickname uttered very cautiously. "Only if you mind your tongue." Any playfulness had drained from her tone as she practically barked at him. Quinn winced. "My apologies." Swallowing a lump in his throat he glanced to the side, then back to the masked face of Felynva. The inability to even have a shot at reading her expression was, even after all this time, a thing he'd never quite adjusted to. And really it was quite the frustrating exercise to have a conversation with her when she refused to take that mask off.

"I don't like surprises, they cause too many variables…" As he trailed off, the gears really began to turn in his mind. Yet, it was too late before he was able to react to his mistake in choice of words. With a loud_thump _his back slammed against the wall of the corridor, his breath getting completely knocked out of him. He squirmed at first in an idiotic effort to free himself, rewarded only with pressure against his windpipe. Coughing, his blue eyes sought for the soulless gaze of the mask only to realize it had been cast aside. Worse yet than the empty stare of the skull was the burning, white-hot passion behind Felynva's eyes.

"_You_ don't like _surprises_?" Even if he wasn't a Sith, he could feel the thick layer of anger that hung in the air. He knew his mistake. Had known it the moment the foolish words left his lips. "Isn't that just a shame then, Captain." Like a snake the Sith hissed at him and Quinn flinched, unable to restrain his base instinct to shy away from danger.

The worst part amidst it all was the burning desire in the pit of his stomach to kiss her. Those divine lips tempted him, fire-driven gaze enticed him, elegant brow ridges drew him in; even the tousled look of her black hair left him squirming for reasons beyond fear. Why did she do this to him? The distractions were nearly intolerable. Especially when he had no escape.

While fingers had released their grasp about his neck, he could swear he still felt the lingering pressure against his throat. It kept him in place like an obedient dog and he hated every second of it. "I'm sorry, my Lord I didn't -" His voice cut short when the Sith hissed. "Didn't what? Think? That seems to be a trend for you lately." Against both will and better judgement, Quinn cringed and shivered, shying away from her. He went to duck away to retreat in defeat, but she caught his arm roughly.

Sharp claws dug into the bare skin on his arm. With a pained expression he looked back at the arm in her iron grip, cursing to the Maker the fact that she still had her gloves on. Pain seared across his skin, lighting up every nerve in the vicinity of her grip. Blood even trickled out under the claw of her thumb as she yanked back to pull him closer again. Like a rag-doll Quinn moved willingly, shoved up against the wall before their bodies collided.

"You may only leave when I have dismissed you." Felynva's voice was chilled and dangerous. A fear of saying the wrong thing welled within the pit of his stomach, so he only gave a slow nod of his head. He clearly wasn't thinking straight to begin with on all of this. Mind still clouded and fuzzy from sleep, processing how not to say or do the wrong thing seemed an impossible feat. "Good. I expect you to keep me apprised of your mission. You may go." She released her grip and he nodded his head. "Yes, of course." As quick as his legs would carry him, Quinn scurried back into his quarters and closed the door.


	2. Best Laid Plans

The door swished closed and Felynva exhaled swiftly. She'd been holding her breath, fighting every emotion that threatened to bubble up in her chest. Their relationship had been extremely strained ever since the incident almost a year ago now. For a time she thought everything was improving, but it was only wishful thinking. He still managed to reopen the wound every now and then, and on days like today rubbed salt in it to boot.

With heavy footfalls, she stepped over to her mask and scooped it up off the deck. Closing her eyes, she pulled it back on over her head and adjusted the front of the mask. She'd not shown it, but it had actually been a bit painful to rip it off as quickly as she had. Something had scraped against her cheek and she twitched when the mask pulled snug over top. She supposed she deserved it for the way she'd treated him. But that did not mean she regretted it. As painful as the motions were, Felynva felt they were necessary. The reminder needed to be there that it truly was only by her good graces that he yet lived. She wasn't ready for him to relax, not yet.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed down the hall to check on Vette. Around the corner, however, was her fellow Sith Lord. Stopping short she stared at Darth Nox, unsure why she was _still_ on the ship.

"Was there something else you needed, Nox?" she asked sharply.

"Trouble on the home front, Wrath?"

The cool tone in which the woman asked made the hair on Felnyva's skin bristle in anger. Something about the sarcastic chiss woman always put Felynva off. Knowing she'd once been a slave did not help the matter either, and she usually supposed the snappy sarcasm came from life as a slave. It always seemed the strong-willed ones had a silver tongue. Vette was much the same way.

"Was there something else you needed, Nox?" She could do nothing but repeat herself. The last thing she wanted to do was to play into the other woman's little game.

Nox scoffed then sighed. "You're no fun."

Fun. Right. Everything really was a game to her, it's amazing that woman sat on the Dark Council. Felynva watched as the younger Sith departed from her sight - and off her ship if she knew what was good for her.

Nostrils flared in annoyance as she continued on her trek to see if Vette was prepared to depart.

The door of the twi'lek's room lay open. Carefully, Felynva removed her mask and stepped into the doorway.

"Ce'na."

The soft coo of her voice trailed into the brightly lit room. A smirk danced onto the sith's features when she saw Vette freeze.

"I've told you how I feel about that." She said, spinning on her heel, nose scrunched up in disapproval.

Felynva glided across the room to a nearby chair and dropped down. Back pressed up against the arm of the chair, she draped her long legs over the other. With a flick of her wrist, the door to the room swished closed and she grinned deviously at the twi'lek.

"So did you tell him?"

"He doesn't deserve to know," Felynva snorted, indignant.

She dropped her mask on the floor next to the chair and lifted that hand to rub her temples. Vette squeaked out a small "ah" as she hurried about the room gathering her things. The twi'lek didn't even need to say much. The unfortunate problem was this did not happen to be the first time this conversation was had. It always went the same way. By now either of them could probably recite how it would go without hesitation.

"So what exciting place are we off to this time?" Vette finally paused long enough to turn and beam at her master.

The sith curled one long finger a couple times at the blue twi'lek, beckoning to her. There was hesitation in her movement for just the barest of seconds, then all at once Vette swept across the room and dropped delicately in the lap of Felynva.

"Perhaps we don't have to go anywhere."

Felynva purred like a kitten, looping an arm around Vette's waist and pulling her closer. A light giggle was her reward as she hugged the smaller woman close.

"One of these days," Vette said, her neck craning slightly to catch Felynva's gaze, "I'm gonna tell everyone about my Sith Lord the teddy bear."

A playful growl escaped the sith's lips as she tilted her head down and nipped at the twi'lek's shoulder. Vette let out a small yelp, but laughed all the same as she relaxed back against her master.

The sharp tips of Felynva's gauntlets raked lightly across Vette's exposed torso. She relished in the feeling of Vette's shuddering body at the sensation.

"How about you put the torture devices away?" Vette asked in a shudder. "And I'll go find my old shock collar if you want to have that kind of fun."

With a devilish grin, Felynva released her slave and complied. Sliding the glove off her left hand first followed by her right, depositing both atop her mask on the floor. In the mean time, Vette slithered off her lap and sauntered across the room. When the twi'lek turned around again, she held the collar in one hand and the controller in the other. Felynva lifted her hand and called the controller to herself with the Force. It shook a moment in Vette's hand before gliding through the air to her awaiting grasp. A devilish smirk lit up her features as she looked at Vette. This would be fun.


	3. Voices

_Curiosity killed the slave._ Cirila could hear Harkun's voice ringing in her head as she lingered on the Wrath's ship. She ground her teeth together in annoyance of the sound. How crystal clear it curled through her brain, as if she'd heard it only moments ago from the man himself. The chiss bristled at the thought of him. She both loved and hated Harkun with every ounce of her existence. His passions were admirable, though his spite for her frustrating. Yet for all his hatred and drive to make her life as difficult as possible, he'd taught her more than any master possibly could have. Zash couldn't even hold a candle to what he taught her. After all, he taught her what it meant to be Sith.

Reeling back, Cirila had not expected to see the Wrath again so soon. Recovering quickly, she smirked at the other Sith.

"Trouble on the homefront, Wrath?"

Oh the tension she could feel was thick. It delighted her to see the reaction, it's what she craved. Unfortunately for her, however, it seemed that the Emperor's Wrath was not keen on answering the question.

"You're no fun."

Obvious. Maybe it was something to do with that bloodline of her's. Cirila scoffed and departed, boots thumping against the metal deck as she exited the ship.

_She just doesn't answer to a slave._ Harkun's voice again. This time Cirila hissed as she looked around foolishly. As if he'd be standing nearby, mocking her. Once all this was done, it would be time to pay him a visit and clear up these damned voices in her head.

"Master!"

Whirling around, Cirila laid eyes upon her bubbly apprentice.

"Ashara." A smile tugged at her lips. "Is everything ready?" Not that she doubted her apprentice.

"Of course, master, we'll be ready to go at your command."

Nodding her head approvingly, she tossed out a "good" to confirm.

"I sense your trouble, master."

The quiet observation pulled the smile right down into a frown. "It's nothing, Ashara, just an old ghost."

Cirila noticed the small, knowing nod that Ashara provided in response. It was difficult to hide from any of her crew. Talos often noted how frequently he caught her mumbling in her sleep. Even Ashara commonly mentioned the muttering when they meditated together.

"Are we ready to depart?" Clearing her throat, Cirila moved the conversation forward, eyes watching intently as the togruta nodded. "Good. This needs to be…"

Her voice trailed off when a figure appeared off the Wrath's ship. Captain Quinn certainly readied himself quickly. Cirila smirked at him, then looked to her apprentice.

"Be sure the Captain has everything he requires, we depart in an hour." Spinning on her heel, she quickly departed to head for her own ship. The awkward assessment of the Captain's now prim and proper appearance would be done later.


End file.
